Intern Week
by Kay8
Summary: PG rating may go up. Two interns from Maryland Law School come to JAG, and Harm and Mac are found dealing with 20-something year olds sitting second chair in court and in their personal lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Two students from Maryland Law School are interning at JAG for a week, under the supervision of Harm and Mac. Chaos ensues, of course.  
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe.  
Spoilers: I'm not sure, but just be warned, there's a chance of me mentioning everything up to season 7. **

****  


Somehow, when I rolled out of bed this morning and found that I had left my window open during last night's rain, I knew it wouldn't be a very good day. And, judging by the size of the wet area under my window, I guessed that it would be a very unlucky day. My suspicions were confirmed when my electricity went out that same morning, when I flicked on the light switch in the kitchen. 

I'm forced to take a shower in the dark and drive off to work without my coffee. I feel sorry for whoever crosses paths with me first, because I don't think they'll come out of it unscathed. I pass the guard without a second look and park my car, then sit in it for a minute trying to figure out how I'm going to run across the parking lot without getting drenched. I reach for my umbrella under the passenger seat, and of course, it's not there. Tightening my cover, I get ready to run in my heels for the entrance. 

Someone knocks on my window and I look up. Harriet is standing on the other side of the window, smiling cheerfully and pointing to her umbrella. I hop from my car without a second look. 

"Harriet, you're a life saver," I say, laughing at the idiocy of it all. 

"Having a bad morning, ma'am?" she asks. The umbrella she has is not meant for two, but it's better than nothing. 

"No electricity, no coffee, no umbrella," I explain. She nods sympathetically. Harriet closes her umbrella as we reach the door to JAG headquarters. We duck inside and make our way to our floor. I thank Harriet again before stepping off the elevator and retreating into my office. I dump my stuff by the side of my desk and check in one of the drawers for Advil. I have a feeling I'll be needing it later today. 

A bright flash of lightening light up my office. I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of my chair. 

"Morning, Mac," Harm says from the doorway. I don't have to open my eyes to know that it's him. 

"What's good about it?"

"I never said it was good," he replies. I can even guess the expression on his face when he says that. "In fact, I thought it was kind of wet."

"Harm, did you need somethingt?" My eyes are still shut. 

"The Admiral passed me on my way in. We're supposed to meet in him his office in ten minutes."

I lift my head off the chair and open my eyes. Harm gives me a look that says 'I'd-hate-to-be-you' and walks away. I roll my eyes and smile a bit. Okay, so everything about this morning hasn't been terribly wrong. Like the past minute was fine. I wonder what the Admiral wants. Probably to assign a case to Harm and me. Great. I close my eyes briefly before standing up and heading to the break room. I really need coffee. 

In ten minutes I find myself stepping into the Admiral's office. I snap to attention, refreshed a bit by the dose of caffeine I found in the break room. Harm is already in the room, standing on my left. 

"Good morning, Colonel. As you were," the Admiral says without looking up from the paper in his hands. I'm tempted to tell him that the morning isn't good at all, but I stop myself. I catch Harm's eye and he grins. He knows what I'm thinking. "The Dean of the Maryland School of Law sent me this letter yesterday," the Admiral says, taking his reading glasses off and placing them aside. He clasps his hands and rests his chin on them. "You two are going to play teacher for a week."

"Sir?" I ask. 

"Let me explain," the Admiral continues. "Two students from Maryland Law have been picked to come and intern here, at JAG, for a week. The Dean requested I assign my highest ranking lawyers to his two students. They'll be arriving tomorrow morning at 0800 hours, and they'll be staying with you for the remainder of the week. For experience, they'll be sitting second chair on your case."

"Sir, if I may speak freely?" I say. He nods. "Last time Commander Rabb and I had anything to do with students of law, it didn't go all too well." All too well is putting it in general terms. We actually uncovered a past case and ended up causing a whole lot more trouble than we intended. 

"I'm aware of this Colonel," the Admiral replies. "However, this time you're first chair, not the other way around."

"And the case, sir?" Harm asks.

"Attempted bigamy. It appears Lieutenant John Edwards is being accused of proposing to Petty Officer Cloak. Cloak supposedly got annoyed when she found that Edwards is married already."

"And they assigned this to us? Why didn't they take it to a civilian court?" Harm asks, disbelieving. 

"They were asked to take it out of the military, but Cloak refused," the Admiral tells us. "Anything else?"

"No, sir," I say, speaking for both Harm and I. 

"Very well, dismissed." Harm and I both stand rigidly for a moment then leave. I head to my office, and Harm follows me. 

"Ready to house a twenty-something year old?" he asks. 

I smile sardonically. "Course I am. I feel sorry for whoever has to spend the week with you, though," I tell him. We enter my office and Harm hangs around the doorway. 

"Why would that be?" 

I shuffle the papers on my desk. "Because they're going to have to live on lettuce and carrots for a week," I say, then glance up at him and flash him a smile. He grins back and leaves my office. For some stupid reason I can't stop smiling. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the great reviews, guys. You motivated me (and starved me, as I should be eating lunch), so here's chapter two.**

I'm looking through the case files when Harm walks in. He doesn't knock, of course, but he doesn't shut the door either. I don't look up from my files; I'm actually not reading them, since the bigamy case is pretty easy, especially that I'm prosecuting. I'm just trying to pass the time until 0800 hours, and so far I'm succeeding. I only have five minutes left. 

"Our interns are waiting," Harm says. 

"It's not eight yet," I reply. I'm not looking forward to this whole thing very much, in fact, I'm not heading out into the bullpen until there are twenty seconds left. 

"You wouldn't want to be late, would you?"

"I'm not the one who should be concerned about being late," I say, glancing at him. 

"I'm fashionably late," he retaliates.

"I'm fashionably on-time."

He snorts with a laugh. "Fashionably on-time translates to irritating."

"Just because-" I'm cut short from my comeback by Harriet, who pops her head in and tells us that our interns are waiting for us. What? I still have three minutes and forty-nine seconds to brood about having a twenty-something year old in my hair for a week. Harm thanks Harriet for us and grins at me. 

"Ready, Marine?"

I brush past him and he follows me into the bullpen. I stop near Gunny's desk, put on a smile, then say, "Colonel Sarah MacKenzie." I extend my hand to the tall woman in front of me. A strained smile is placed on her face, and she accepts my hand. I look down and notice that she's extremely fair skinned. 

"Amy Whipple," she introduces herself. "Nice to meet you." Her black hair contrasts strangely to her light skin. I hate it that I have to look up to see her face. She steps forward to Harm and extends her hand to him, much more enthusiastically than toward me. I try not to scowl. Although, I notice that Harm smiles only politely, and doesn't give Whipple his full-blown flyboy smile. 

Then I notice the man standing behind Whipple, looking around rather nervously. I step up to him and shake his hand. "N-nice to meet you, Colonel. L-louis Rivera," he stutters. I smile at him more sincerely that I did at Whipple. Rivera steps around me and shakes Harm's hand, then we all stand back like we were and look at each other. Now I can see, when Rivera is standing next to Whipple, that he's much shorter than her. 

"Well, should we get started?" Whipple asks. She reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who. Whipple steps toward Harm. Not so fast.

"Good idea, Ms. Whipple. Why don't we go to my office?" I tell her. She turns to me, her smile fading off. I try not to smile smugly; you don't get everything in life. As I pass Harm, I give him a look. If this girl's going to be drooling all over Harm the entire week, it's going to be a lot worse than I thought. 

I lead Whipple into my office and shut the door behind us. "Have you been briefed at all on this case, Ms. Whipple?"

"Please, it's Amy. To my understanding, Petty Officer Cloak, having too much money and too much time on her hands, decided to go after Lieutenant Edwards when he proposed to her," Amy says. 

"Cloak went after Lieutenant Edwards," I correct, "because he was already married when he proposed to her. Since we're prosecuting, it should be pretty easy to convict Edwards."

"Are you always this confident?"

I look up at Amy from the file I was reading. "Bigamy is the _crime_ of marrying another individual while already married."

"But Edwards _tried_ to marry her, and he never succeeded," Amy says. 

"And if he would have succeeded?"

"He would have been a criminal. But he didn't succeed...."

"Are you trying to get on the defense?"

"I'm just pointing out the facts," she says. Despite what my better judgment is telling me, I glare at Amy for a moment before flipping through the file again. This will be one hell of a week. 

****

I love lunchtime. Usually, I don't care one way or the other, but today it's a nice break. Not that there's much to break from. Rivera's a damn good lawyer, or he will be. And here I was thinking that he'd be quiet, nervous, and would break everything he touched. That's what I get for judging on first impressions. I mix my salad and dressing together, and wonder how I'm ever going to prove that Lieutenant Edwards is innocent. 

Rivera seems certain that there's a way, which is good, because I'm not going to lose to Mac and Whipple. Speaking of Whipple....

"How's your day going, Commander?" Whipple asks, sitting across from me. I'm snapped from my reverie. I glance over her long, pale face. She's watching me with really brown eyes, almost black. There not nearly as nice as Mac's. Hmm, wonder where that came from. "Commander?"

"Ms. Whipple. Enjoying yourself so far?" I ask. I look to see what she has for lunch. All I see is a zip lock bag of saltines. "Quite a lunch you have there."

"Oh, please call me Amy," she says, smiling. "I'm on a diet." Some diet. And I thought I was a health-freak. Wait till Mac gets a load of this. 

"To be honest? I love the people here. Charming group of people," she tells me. Charming? I had never heard the people of JAG headquarters be described as _charming_. "The work, however, is another story. I suppose the Colonel puts me up to all this paperwork because she doesn't want to do it herself. I'm not getting any experience here yet. How to look for evidence in records? I learned that two years ago."

"Whoever said that being a JAG here would be interesting? Before you get to go to court, you've got to have evidence. Something to back you up," I tell her. 

"Minor details. The Colonel seems to be power hungry," Whipple says. I try not to gape at her. Who's being power hungry? 

"I thought you said we were charming people," I shoot back. She flashes me a very flirtatious smile. I try not to roll my eyes. 

"Some of you are," she says, eyeing me. I'm torn between amazement and disgust. She's ten years younger than me, if not more, and trying to get my interest.

I'm not sure what to say. I look around the courtyard for help and spot Mac sitting a few tables away, writing something on her legal pad. I give Whipple a half-smile. "Excuse me," I say, standing up. I walk over to Mac, throwing my salad away as I go. I sit down across from Mac and pull her legal pad away. She looks up, disgruntled, and is about to say something before I interrupt. 

"Save me from Singer's daughter," I whisper. Mac looks confused, then glances over my shoulder.

"Whipple?" Mac asks, almost laughing. "What did she do to you?"

"Called me charming," I say bluntly. Mac's eyebrows shoot up.

"You, charming?"

"Mac, I'm serious. How are you dealing with her?" 

"Exactly how I handle Singer. Pretend she's not there, and if she insists on being noticed, I give her loads of paperwork."

"She thinks you're power hungry," I inform her.

"_I'm_ power hungry? How come hell froze over and no one told me?" Mac says.


	3. Chapter 3

"Here's home," I say, swinging the door to my apartment open and setting my briefcase down. I flip my cover off and place it on the couch. Louis steps through the doorway and looks around carefully. 

"It's nice," he says honestly. 

"It's where you're living for the next week, so get used to it," I tell him, heading into the kitchen. He closes the door behind him, places his briefcase down and places his cover neatly on top.

"Did you have it renovated? It doesn't seem to...er...match the rest of the area."

"Renovated it myself."

"Nice job," he says, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter. "What's to eat."

"Hope you like vegetables."

"You're a vegetarian?" he says. "I'm not fond of meat myself."

I grin at him, trying to decide what to cook. Louis must've seen my distress, because he steps around into the kitchen and begins digging through my refrigerator and cabinets. I watch him as he pushes the salt aside to look farther inside the cabinet, then watch him as he removes olive oil from the cabinet. It's almost irritating how he places the salt in the exact spot where it was before. 

He turns to me. "I'll cook."

"Really? Didn't know you were a chef."

"I'm nowhere near being a chef," he says. "You're going to be my guinea pig, Commander."

"It's Harm outside of JAG," I reply automatically. "Since you're cooking, I'll go change." Louis nods and I slip from the kitchen into my room. I take off my uniform and put on jeans and a sweatshirt. I walk back into the kitchen to find Louis over the stove. I peer into the pot to see what he has cooking. "Pasta?"

"It's an old Italian recipe that my father taught me," Louis replies. I look over Louis. He's very hispanic looking with a short build and dark skin. He had a bulky build, more fit than fat. 

"Italian?"

"My father was, actually, a real chef. Owned his own restaurant in California," Louis replied, shredding basil. I wonder where he got it from, as I don't remember having any in my house. 

"And you didn't follow his lead?" I ask. 

"Nope," Louis says. "Law was what I wanted. My father, before he passed away, told me that I should be in the Navy instead."

"Sorry for your loss," I tell him, sincerely. 

"Thank you." I notice how calm he seems about it. "I stayed with law, but realized that I could go into the military, also. That's why I'm here; I want to be a JAG."

"You're not too far off, Louis," I tell him. "You'll be a damn good lawyer. And being at JAG isn't as boring as it sounds."

"I'm sure it's not," Louis says, then grins. 

****

"Do you have any beer?"

I wince. Normally, I would get kind of mad. My friends and colleagues usually know better not to ask that question, but I guess I have to be understanding since Whipple doesn't know me. I set down my newspaper from that morning and twist to try and see inside the kitchen. She's poking her head in cabinets. "Not in this house," I answer her, turning back around. 

"Don't do alcohol?" she asks, much closer than before. 

"Bad experiences, and let's just leave it at that," I say. There's no way I'm going to have a nice little girl-talk with Whipple. She flops onto the couch without replying, then flicks on the television. I try not to throw her out of my apartment. "Shouldn't you be catching up on the case?" I ask her when I hear 'Friends' running. 

"I know the case," Whipple says. 

"What's the name of Lieutenant Edwards' wife again?" 

She clucks her tongue and turns the television off. I can feel her eyes on me, and I lift my head to look at her. She's giving me a cold look. It's surprising how much she looks like Singer. If only she had blonde hair. "You know," Whipple starts, "when I submitted my name to the Dean for this opportunity, I was looking forward to experience. I wasn't planning on revisting my mother." She stands up to leave.  


The nerve of her. I'm tempted to yell, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't do anything. "When I became a JAG lawyer, I didn't expect to deal with disrespectful law students. As long as you're living in my house, and working under my authority, you'll appreciate what I have to offer." 

Whipple gives me another look and I notice her shoulders slump. She knows as well as I do that if I my final report on her is bad, it could mean the end of her law career and thousands of dollars that were invested into her education gone. "Where will I be sleeping?" she asks, her voice not admitting her defeat. 

"I've got an inflatable in my closet, unless you prefer the couch," I tell her, starting for my bedroom. I quickly pull out my old inflatable mattress and drag it into the living room. I plug it into the wall, switch the pump on, and wait for it to inflate. I find some clean sheets and a blanket and start to make the bed, and I'm glad to see Whipple has enough decency to help me. 

I examine the bed with my hands on my hips. Seems all right. Satisfied, I give a curt goodnight to Whipple and retreat to my own bedroom. I just can't _wait _to work some more on the case tomorrow. 

**Hmm, do you want longer chapters, or are these all right? Longer chapters will mean longer update waiting, but you choose. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't worry Dagen and CP, I'm a shipper at heart! Just be patient ^_^ And as for my chapter length dilemma, I've decided I'll cut chapters off when the flow stops...flowing, and try to keep up my update speed. I'll let you know that there won't be any more posts until Sunday/Monday.**

"How long had you been seeing Petty Officer Cloak when you proposed to her?" Whipple asked. Harm and I both decided this morning that we would let Whipple and Rivera do the questioning. I lean back in the conference room chair and study the defendant. Lieutenant John Edwards is a long, lanky man with a crooked nose and reddish hair. He seems really nervous about the whole thing, as if trying to marry two women wasn't something he should be blamed for. 

"Allegedly proposed, Ms. Whipple," Rivera corrected, using formality. "Innocent until proven guilty." I raise my eyebrows a notch and look at Harm, who's just as surprised as I am. Rivera, for the most part, has been shy around me. This is a bit of a surprise. A pleasant one at that, because I'm starting to enjoy Whipple when she's defeated and but won't admit it. 

"Let me rephrase," Whipple says, forcing a smile at Rivera. "How long have you been seeing Cloak when you _allegedly_ proposed to her?"

Edwards seemed to think a moment. "I would say about six months."

"What was the basis of your relationship?" Rivera quickly says before Whipple can have her word. 

"Strictly friendship. I've always been very loyal to my wife," Edwards replies. 

"Then why did you propose...." Whipple catches Rivera's eye and adds, "_Allegedly_ propose?"

"I didn't."

"You're telling me you accidentally fell on one knee and held out a ring to Petty Officer Cloak?"

"I don't know what Nancy Cloak told you, but-"

"Are you accusing my client," Whipple continues, standing up, "of lying?"

"Ms. Whipple," Harm says, twisting his pen cap in his fingers. He glances up from it and gives Whipple a warning look. "This isn't the courtroom." Whipple cocks her head at Harm, smiles at him (without forcing it, might I add), straightens her skirt, and sits down again. Right, now it's my turn to interfere. 

"Lieutenant Edwards, would you mind coming in tomorrow morning?" I ask. 

"That's fine, ma'am," he says. 

"Ms. Whipple and I will call in our client so we can hear her perspective of what happened," I say. "Tomorrow at 0900 hours, Lieutenant?"

"I'll be here, ma'am."

"Thank you." Edwards leaves, and the four of us are stuck in the conference room. "Nice job on the questioning. Tomorrow morning we'll do basically the same thing, but since Nancy Cloak will be with us, there will be her conflicting testimony."

"And I suggest," Harm says, setting the pen down on his notepad, "that the arguments should be left out of it." He's not looking at Whipple, but it's obvious who he's directing it to. 

"We'll break for lunch, if that's all right with you two," I say to Rivera and Whipple. They nod and I look to Harm. "Care to join me, Commander?"

"On your six, Colonel," he says quietly as we leave, so that only I can hear. We leave the conference room and head down to the cafeteria. "How was your night?" he asks when we sit down. 

I sigh and look around. "Could be better."

"Troubles with the younger generation?"

"Don't say that," I tell him. "It makes me feel so old."

"You? I'm the one who's almost over the hill here."

"It sure doesn't seem to stop Whipple from pursuing you," I reply coolly, keeping my eyes trained down. I let my eyes flicker up to his face a moment later when he doesn't respond. He has a thoughtful expression put on. 

"You know, having someone young around wouldn't be too bad-" My jaw drops a bit and I stare at him, disbelieving. I knew he was shallow to some extent, but not _this_ shallow. "Mac," he says, grinning. "I'm joking."

I bite a chunk of garlic bread in response. 

****

"How did Lieutenant Edwards meet this woman," I ask Rivera as we walk out to my car. The day was filled with dull research, and it's a relief to head home for a bit. We've got to figure out what we want to weasel out of Nancy Cloak tomorrow morning. 

"It doesn't say in the records we have," Rivera replies. 

"We'll have to ask Cloak and Edwards tomorrow morning."

"Is that relevant, sir?" Rivera asks. 

I look at him over the roof of my Corvette. "You never know in court." I unlock the car and we both sit down. We're pulling out of JAG when Rivera asks something that makes me jerk the steering wheel. 

"Sir - Harm, can I ask you something?" I nod in response, giving him a sideways look. "How long have you been seeing Colonel MacKenzie?"

I jerk the wheel hard enough that I'm in the middle of the two lanes. Luckily there's no one around, and I carefully drive back to the left lane. I give Rivera a look, not daring to take my eyes of the road too long. Rivera looks as if he hasn't done a thing wrong. 

"I'm not seeing Mac," I say bluntly, my half-dead head not giving me a better answer. What kind of answer should I have thought up? That no, I'm not seeing Mac, but I'd drop dead on my feet to be able to?

"Why? She's not married-" Here I give Rivera a sharp look. "There's no ring on her finger," he explains carefully. "Have you ever....?"

"Been with her?" I say, almost waspishly. "No. I think we've gone far enough, Louis."

"Sorry," Rivera says. What ever happened to him being the shy kind? I give Rivera another look, only to find that he's staring out his window. Silently, I sigh.

****

"Where did you and Lieutenant Edwards meet?" Rivera asks. Petty Officer Cloak shifts in her chair, gives Edwards a dirty look, straightens up, then looks squarely at Rivera. Talk about dramatic. 

"We had been working on the _USS_ Patrick Henry for the past two years together," Cloak replies. 

"And you didn't know him before that time?" Rivera continues. Cloak shakes her head. "Petty Officer, did you ever show any interest towards Lieutenant Edwards?" Now Cloak smoothes her sleek blonde hair down. 

"Never."

"Yes you did!" Edwards says, suddenly jumping out of his reverie. "You were the one who asked me to dinner!"

"And you went with her?" Whipple asks. "You went, even though you were married?"

"I was being friendly. I wasn't looking for anything more than friendship!" Edwards protests. 

"Until you proposed to her," Whipple says smoothly. 

"I never-!"

"What did your wife," Rivera says sharply, interrupting the dispute, "think about your friendship with the Petty Officer?"

Now it was Edwards' turn to shift uncomfortably. "She was less than fond of the idea. She and Nancy had never been close."

"They knew each other?"

"Since the Academy," Edwards replies. "Nancy, I think, was jealous at the time. She never showed it, but she made side remarks that showed her opinion of my wife." I look at Harm quickly. _Déjà vu_, isn't it. He's concentrated on Rivera and doesn't notice me. 

"Did you love your wife?" Whipple asks before Cloak can interrupt. 

"Always have, always will."

"Thank you, Petty Officer, Lieutenant. You're both absolutely positive you don't want to settle this in a civilian court?" I ask. 

"I trust the military, ma'am," Cloak replies stiffly. 

"Thank you, then. Our court date is set for Thursday," Harm tells them, and they leave. 

I grin at Harm. "You're going to lose this one, Commander," I tell him smugly, then glance at Rivera. "Not that I don't think you're a fine lawyer, Mr. Rivera."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replies, smiling. 

"What about me?" Harm asks, putting on a fake hurt expression. "Aren't I a good lawyer?"

"Let me think about that one."

"Hey, that was rather hostile, Colonel," Harm says. "I thought it was code to be respectful to your friends and colleagues."

Ha, tell that to Whipple. I don't reply to Harm, because the response I'm thinking about wouldn't be appropriate, even if we were out of office. There are still certain grounds that we tend to tread carefully on. Instead, I raise my eyebrows at him and stand, gathering my stuff again. 

"Well, as romantic and flirtatious as that was, I should get some lunch," Whipple says, plainly unaware of what she had just stepped on. Harm and I both turn to look at her sharply. Even Rivera seems uncomfortable. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what Harm has told him, then my mind zeros in on blasting Whipple away. 

Harm gets there first, lucky guy. "I would watch what you say, Ms. Whipple," Harm says very formally. His voice is the one that he uses with me when we're not talking to each other unless we have to. I've grown to despise that voice, but damn, it's great to see Whipple totally abashed by it. "Have a good lunch," Harm adds, straightening and smiling. "Want to come, Colonel?"

I won't look at Whipple, I won't look at Whipple.... "Sure," I reply, and we head off to the cafeteria for the second day in a row. Hey, we must be doing something right. 

****

"That was stupid of you to say," Rivera says, putting his papers together after he hears the door close.

"What?" Whipple answers, not listening. 

"You must be blind if you can't see it," Rivera says, trying not to sound superior. 

Whipple looks up, frustrated. "What are you talking about, Lou?"

"The Commander and the Colonel."

"What about them!"

Rivera gapes openly at Whipple, then rises. "Let's just put it this way: I'm surprised they're not married." He leaves, and Whipple stares after him. 

**The last part was in first person because I've gotten into the habit of writing like that, even though neither Mac nor Harm saw the conversation take place. **


	5. Chapter 5

**I actually don't know much about McMurphy's, so if there's something wrong in this chapter, tell me and I'll fix it. ^_^**

Friday. What should I do this lonely weekend? I'm definitely not going to sit at home and baby-sit Whipple. Even if there is a case to work on, I need to get out and do something. Anything to get my mind off Whipple. I pack up my things and go look for her. I see her at Harm's office door, leaning casually against the frame. 

That's enough of the sailor for you, Whipple. I plaster a smile on my face and place my hand on her shoulder. She jumps, and so does Harm. "Ready to go?" I ask Whipple. She opens her mouth to say something, then looks at me and closes it. Good dog. 

"Of course, Colonel. Commander Rabb here was telling me about his flying," Whipple says, smiling at Harm. I raise my eyebrows at Harm. 

"I'm sure the Commander has plenty of his exaggerated stories to tell," I say, more to Harm than Whipple. Harm shakes his head and smiles a bit. 

"I wouldn't want to bore you, Ms. Whipple. Have a nice evening," Harm replies. I nod and drag Whipple from the door. I'm almost to the elevator when Harriet stops me. 

"Colonel...oh, sorry ma'am," Harriet says, "I was wondering if you'd like to join Bud and me at McMurphy's tonight? Oh, Ms. Whipple's welcome of course."

Harriet, thank you, thank you. "We'll be there."

"Seven all right, ma'am?"

"See you then, Harriet," I say, then dash to the elevator before anyone else can stop me, dragging Whipple with me. 

It's some time later when I'm waiting in my living room for Whipple. And I thought Harm was bad with being late. I check for keys and money once more. I'm about to call out for her when she steps in front of me, smiling. I blink, surprised at the change. Whipple's long hair has been twisted up into a casual knot on the back of her head, and her simple make up for everyday has been touched up.

"Wow," I say simply. She smiles, then looks me over quickly. 

"Wow yourself. The red is a nice change from the green," Whipple replies. I look down to my khakis and red sweater. Simple enough, but I guess it's different than my Marine green. 

"Let's go," I say, and we get into my car. I drive, and we sit in silence. I try to focus on driving rather than thinking of something intelligent to say. I let my thoughts wander, and find myself trying to figure out who else will be at McMurphy's tonight. I actually didn't as Harriet who else she invited, but I'm assuming it'll be the majority of us from JAG. The Admiral, Sturgis, Singer, Harm....

I smile a bit and park. Whipple and I walk to the bar and enter the dim building. I take off my coat and hang it on one of the pegs my the door, and Whipple follows my suit. I spot Sturgis and AJ sitting at the bar, laughing about something. Since I can't find anyone else, I go up to them. 

"Hi there," I say, leaning against the bar top. On my right, Whipple's already ordering some drink. 

"Mac," Sturgis says in acknowledgement. AJ just nods his head. 

"So, where's everyone else?" I ask. I'm not going to bother introducing Whipple properly to Sturgis, since she's obviously more interested in the man sitting next to her at the bar. 

"I think they've got a table somewhere," AJ tells me. 

"What are you two doing here, then?"

"Chatting, Mac," Sturgis says in a friendly way. 

"I'll let you get on with it," I reply, then shuffle off, leaving Sturgis, AJ, and Whipple at the bar. I notice someone waving in the corner of the bar, realize it's Harriet, then walk over to join them. Everyone scoots together to allow me into the booth. Bud and Harriet are here, along with Harm and Rivera. "Hey everyone."

They all murmur they're greetings in response. "Where's Amy?" Harm asks. 

"At the bar, enjoying the locals," I reply, grinning. A waiter appears at my side and asks all of us what we would like to drink. I ask for a Coke and the waiter continues down the table. 

"For you, another one?" he asks Harm, picking up his empty beer glass. Without even looking at me, Harm declines and asks for water instead. He hates drinking in front of me. The waiter moves along, and is soon back with our drinks. We all chat for a little while about miscellaneous things, then suddenly a rather slow song is struck up. Uncomfortably, I shift in my seat. Bud and Harriet decide to have one dance, and I watch them for a minute before someone coughs near my ear. I turn to see Rivera looking even more uncomfortable than I feel. 

"Care to dance...Mac?" he says. I smile at him, stand, and let him get out of the booth. I place my hand on his hand and we find a clear spot. I move my hand from his and move it closer to his shoulder, and at the same time he puts his hand waist. I grin. 

"I might deck you if you step on my feet," I warn, jokingly. Rivera smiles nervously. There's a good space between us, and I can tell that he feels very awkward. It's almost cute how he's shy around me, even if it is disconcerting in a way. The song's halfway over when Whipple suddenly comes up to us and asks to cut in. Rivera looks at me expectantly. "You owe me half a dance, Louis," I tell him, then rejoin Harm at our now empty table. 

"You're not going to dance, flyboy?" I ask, grinning. He grins back. 

"Not tonight," he replies. 

"What a shame," I say. "I'm sure Whipple would be disappointed."

He gives me a look and I can't help but laugh. Now I notice he's looking at me seriously, as if seeing something for the first time. I cast my eyes down, then at him again, laughing a little. "What?"

"I'm lucky you're my friend," he says. I almost choke on my Coke. Where the hell did that come from? Not that I'm complaining; any such compliment from Harm is always a plus. 

"We're back at that word again," I say without thinking. 

"What word?"

"Friend. Do you think that covers us?" I realize now that I've directed us into dangerous territory. A minefield is a better metaphor. Why do I always say something without thinking about it first? And I just had to go and start this conversation in the middle of McMurphy's bar. I'm lucky that no one's sitting around us to gawk at my question. God knows how many chances I've given Harm to be more than 'just friends' or 'just colleagues'. God knows how long I've been wanting the pieces to fall together. 

Now that I've gotten myself stuck in the ditch, I'm curious to see what his reaction is. I'm not going to take back my words, because as I think about them, it's an honest and valid question. I try to meet Harm's eyes, but he's looking out away from me. 

"Mac...." he drawls, almost warningly. Oh no, not this time. I'm not asking you to propose to me, Harm. Not yet, anyway. 

"Harm, it's a question. Do you think 'friends' is the right word?"

"Didn't you ask me this at your engagement party?" Harm asks. Real smooth, sailor. Bring up Mic and all the strings attached to that. Hell, why not bring up that night in Sydney while you're at it. 

"And you never really answered," I almost whisper. There are so many bad memories right now, and it's my fault that I've brought them to the surface, but I've been holding it back for a while now. Harm doesn't want to risk his professional relationship with me. Frankly, I don't fancy the idea, but if the opportunity arose to fix things between me and him, I'd jump on it. 

"Mac," he tries again. I'm suddenly frustrated by him. Always trying to back out of this conversation. I'll give him the fact that McMurphy's isn't the best place to hold this talk. 

I look around, reaching for the right way to say what I'm feeling. The thing I want most right now, right here, is sitting in front of me, giving me an intense look. He looks almost hurt, and I recognize that look from many occasions past. I want to be able to sit here with him and not have to pretend there's nothing going on. I'm certain our feelings our mutual, but it won't hit home until he let's go of it. 

And that's what I decide to tell him. "I've been waiting...waiting for you," I say, struggling. "You had better let go, Harm, before this kills us." And I push away from the table. I leave the bar and slide into my car, then sit on the cool seat for a minute, the windshield blurring in and out of my focus. I turn the key in the ignition and pull away. 

It' getting late, and I haven't moved off my bed. The lights are off in my room, and I'm staring up at the ceiling. That's when the door to the house opens and I sit up straight, wondering who has the key to my apartment. Whipple, I realize, when I hear her calling. I lie back down. 

She enters my room, leans against the wall and asks, "Are you awake?"

"Yes," I reply. 

"Why are the lights out?" she says, flipping the switch and nearly blinding me. I shut my eyes against the light. "Something wrong?"

Yes. "No," I tell her. 

"Why'd you leave the bar so soon? I asked Lou," Whipple says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "and he said that you were talking with Harm, then left." I don't say anything to her questions. She continues. "Something wrong between you and Harm?"

Yes. "No."

"That's not what Lou said."

I sit up and open my eyes. "What did Louis tell you?"

"He's surprised you two aren't married," Whipple says, a catty smile on her face. 

I flop back down on the bed. "Good night, Amy," I tell her. She says something incoherent, turns the lights out, and shuts the door, leaving myself to brood. And plot a way to hurt Rivera, right after I'm done with Harm. I sigh and roll over, willing sleep to come to me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hmm, when reading this, imagine Harm's face when he's confused. I love that face. **

"Commander!"

I sit up in my bed and look around, startled. Rivera grins at me from the door. My head spins from sitting up too fast, and I place my hand on my forehead. What time is it? I look to my clock and realize I have half and hour to get dressed and get to work. Damn. 

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?" I ask Rivera, throwing the cover off me and planting my feet on the ground. 

"I thought you were up already," Rivera replies.

"Hiding in my room?" Where are my clean socks? Do I _have_ any clean socks?

"Hiding, thinking, worrying," Rivera suggests, his tone innocent. I look up and shoot him a glare. 

"What's that supposed to mean," I ask, pulling out two socks, then throwing one back when it doesn't match. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"See you in a minute," Rivera says, then walks out. I wish that he was the kind that stayed shy and quiet, not the kind that annoyed you after you got to know them. Okay, let's forget the black socks. I pull out a brown pair, and figure that it'll have to do. I throw on the rest of my clothes (crumpled clothes, might I add) and rush to the bathroom. 

I can't find the gel I use for my hair, so of course, I blame Rivera instead of myself. He pokes his head in when I yell at him. "Harm," he says, laughing, "you were supposed to go to the store Saturday."

That's right, but I was wallowing in thoughts about Mac, and I forgot. I don't tell Rivera this, but I'm sure he knows what I'm thinking. Frustrated, I look through the sink cabinet in search of anything that'll glue my hair. 

"Hey," Rivera says. I turn around just in time to catch a bottle of gel. 

"Thanks," I tell him, then get to work. Finally, with twenty minutes to get across town, Rivera and I pull away from my apartment and get stuck in traffic. I lean my elbows on the steering wheel and place the butts of my palms into my eyes. The weekend was one of the worst. After Mac stormed from McMurphy's on Friday, I knew I screwed up majorly again. 

She had been frank and honest with me, and I had done nothing but avoid the subject. It's strange that when it comes to most women, I can flash them a smile and they'll forgive me, but with Mac it's different. I guess because I know Mac so well, and she likewise, that it just doesn't work. She knows when I'm being sincere, or when I'm lying. Damn her. 

But then again, that's what's so great about her. I can't hide anything from her; not really. Yeah, there was that one time that I didn't tell her about my eye surgery, and I'm sure there are other ugly times, but she'll always find out. Friday was her way of trying to figure out what I'm thinking about where our relationship stands. Or doesn't stand. Either she's really nosey and really wants to know, or she already knows and is trying to make me admit it. 

I hope it's the latter, so at least that way she knows that I want our relationship to keep heading the right way. I should really be seeing someone about this. I don't think it's healthy for me to try and figure out how relationships work. Furthermore, I don't think I should be trying to figure out this thing between Mac and me. At least, not with this much analyzing.

Traffic's moving again, and I accelerate. I drive the rest of the way without really thinking, just staring at the car in front of me. I park and step from my car. I'm in the building before I know it. The elevator stops at the correct floor and I allow Rivera to pass inside the bullpen before I do. I train my eyes on my office door, and I'm almost there when the object of my thoughts steps in front of me. 

Mac thrusts a paper into my hand, and I look down to see that it's a schedule. "Court is on Thursday at 0900 hours. Closing arguments is scheduled for Thursday afternoon, but it might be moved to Friday morning depending on the length of the trial," she tells me, her eyes on the paper in my hands. "I'll be calling in two witnesses. How many do you have planned?"

"Uh," I say intelligently, shocked by Mac's forwardness. "Two."

"Good," she says, and turns to walk away. 

"Mac," I try, but stop when she doesn't turn around. 

"Commander," she calls over her shoulder. Ouch. That stung. I stand there for a moment, noticing how quiet it got in the bullpen. I turn around, and everyone suddenly starts moving. I sigh, looking at the paper in my hands. I'm suddenly annoyed, because Friday night wasn't entirely my fault. She could have done her part and started the conversation in a different spot, someplace where I didn't have to worry about someone else over hearing. 

Yeah, well, I could have done my part and just _tell_ her that I want to take 'us' to the next level.

"Commander?" Rivera asks. I look up to my office door. "The information you requested is here."

"Coming," I reply. This will be one hell of a day. 

****

Singer enters the bathroom as I exit the stall. I go to the sink to wash my hands, and she leans against the wall with superior smile on her face. "Morning, Lieutenant," I tell her. I came in the bathroom because I needed to get away from Whipple's side remarks and suggestions about how she could be more useful if she did _this._ And now Singer herself is in here. I feel like I'm being stalked by over-achieving, ambitious women. 

"You and the Commander having problems this morning?" Singer asks. 

"What makes you say that?" Game plan: denial. 

"You're being awfully formal with each other."

"We're at work, we're supposed to be formal."

"So you're not upset with him?" Singer pushes. 

What did she hear? "Why would I be?" I ask. 

"Oh," Singer says, looking strangely disappointed, "no reason." She grabs some towels from the dispenser and finds me watching her. "I spilled coffee on my desk," she tells me before I can ask. 

I have a funny feeling she didn't come in here for napkins. "There are napkins in the break room."

"Are there?" she wonders. I force a smile and walk from the bathroom, just in time to knock into none other than Harm. For once, I don't like being smashed up against his chest. No, I like it, but I just don't want it to happen now. Why couldn't it have happened Friday? Maybe that would have changed his stubborn mind. 

"My apologies," I say, then step around. He steps the same way. I step to the left, and he follows. I wonder briefly if he's doing this on purpose. "Excuse me," I say, annoyed, and take a huge step to the right, running into Singer. God, what is it about Mondays? She gives me a look and continues on her way. Furious, I spin on my heel and glare at Harm. "Are you following me, Commander?"

"You're the one who came out of the women's bathroom," Harm replies. 

"Did you want me to come from the men's?" I snap. 

"Mac, listen," he says, grabbing my arm just as I'm about to walk away. I look up at him; it sucks that he's taller. 

"Do I have a choice, _Commander_?" I ask.

"Are you going to keep treating me as if I'm your co-worker?"

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you were my co-worker," I reply, lowering my voice. No need to bring the Admiral running. Or Singer, for that matter. 

"_Only_ your co-worker?" Harm asks, his hand still around my arm. 

"Are you going to keep treating me as if I'm _only_ your friend?" I challenge. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but whatever he had to say got stuck, giving me time to wrench my arm away and continue back to my office. I spot Singer and Whipple sitting in my office and immediately change direction to the break room, wondering what the hell Singer's doing in my office. 

It seems that wherever I go, someone else has to be there. Sturgis is leaning against the counter, drinking a bottle of water. He glances up at me and takes another swig of his water. "Morning Mac."

"Mmm," I reply, pouring myself a cup of coffee. Sturgis opens his mouth to tell me something, but he closes it when I choke on the coffee. It tastes like water more than coffee. I set my cup down, sloshing the liquid onto the counter. "Who made this?"

"I did," he replies. "I tried to warn you."

I'm about to say something nasty to say to him, but I don't, since fighting with Sturgis won't bring any desired results. I take another bottle of water and sip it slowly, staring at the bottle. I think about what I said to Harm. It was harsh, and very shocking, to say the least. I basically just told him I want to be more than friends. No, correction, I just told him _again._ I could have been worse; I could have told him that I loved him. 

With that annoying thought, I look up at Sturgis, who's watching me intently. "What?" I ask, defeated. 

"Trouble in paradise?" he asks. I refrain from rolling my eyes. 

"There's no paradise to begin with, Sturgis," I tell him. 

"So that's the problem," he counters. 

"Oh, no you don't," I tell him. "Not again. You're not getting anything else weaseled out of me." With that, I take my water and start to leave. It's just my luck that I run into Harm. I give him a disbelieving look. Twice is too weird. He tries to say something, but I brush past him before he can say whatever it was. 

****

Sturgis whistles. I turn to him, a bit dazed. "Something wrong?" he asks. 

"I've run into her twice now, twice. Isn't that like an omen or something?" I ask. 

"You're sounding like Bud," Sturgis replies. He walks past me, pats me on the back, and says, "Nice socks."

Glancing down, I notice that one leg of my pants is tucked into my wonderful, brown sock. I lean against the counter and let my head flop onto the cabinet behind me with a thud. I really do need to see someone about this...'relationship'. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Ensign Wilkins," I state, looking over the petite woman on the stand. She sits up straighter. "State your relationship with Petty Officer Cloak."

"We've been friends for about a year and a half. She's my roomate on the _USS _Patrick Henry," Wilkins states, her eyes wide with innocence. She can't be older than twenty. 

"Then it's safe to say that the Petty Officer talked to you often," I ask. 

"Yes, ma'am," she replies. "Nan - Petty Officer Cloak and I are close. We tell each other almost everything."

"Did Petty Officer Cloak ever tell you about her relationship with Lieutenant Edwards?"

"Oh," Wilkins said, brightening. "Yes ma'am. She talked about him a lot."

"With a positive attitude?"

"Not always," Wilkins says. "In fact, most times she was annoyed with his antics. She said that he was ivading her space." Wilkins glances past me to where Cloak is sitting. 

"Do you recall the day that Lieutenant Edwards allegedly proposed to the Petty Officer?"

"Like yesterday," Wilkins says, beaming. "She - Petty Officer Cloak - came into our room, dropped on her bed, and was clearly upset. I tried to comfort her, and when I found out that she had been proposed to, I asked what the problem was. She told me that Lieutenant Edwards is already married."

"Thank you, Enisgn. No furthur questions," I say, then return to my chair next to Whipple. From the corner of my eye, I watch Harm think about something, then stand up. If it hadn't been that he and I were arguing, I would have enjoyed the view of his six immensly. Well, I still _do_ enjoy it, but it's not as much fun knowing that we're not speaking. 

Harm stands in front of Ensign Wilkins with his hands clasped behind his back. "Enisign, did Petty Officer Cloak ever mention a ring that she received from Lieutenant Edwards?"

"Yes, sir," Wilkins replies. 

"Did you ever see it?"

Wilkins opens her mouth, then stops, and changes her mind. She looks warily at Cloak, then answers. "No."

"Did Petty Officer Cloak ever give you proof of the marriage proposal?"

"Only her word," Wilkins says honestly. 

"And you're taking her word?"

"Petty Officer Cloak doesn't give me reason not to trust her."

"Are you aware that Petty Officer Cloak has shown jealousy towards Lieutenant Edwards and his wife?"

"Objection; relevance?" I say, frowning. 

"Overruled," the judge replies, looking at Harm with rapt attention. I glare at Harm's back. "Answer the question, Ensign."

Wilkins looks uncomfortable. "Well, Petty Officer Cloak sometimes mentioned that she was less than fond of Mrs. Edwards."

"Did the Petty Officer ever mention ways of getting revenge on Mrs. Edwards?" Harm asks, turning away from Wilkins and slowly walking toward Rivera. I keep my eyes trained on Wilkins. Harm turns and slowly walks back. I'm going to choke that man after court today. He's put me through three days of skirting each other; being annoyingly formal, not having lunch together, not laughing about Singer.... Basically, he put me through hell. 

I guess it's my fault, in part, for expecting so much from him. I mean, this is Harm I'm talking about. He's not one who suddenly drops to his knees and tells me that he loves me. 

But he could have told me that he wanted us to be more than platonic. I sigh, thinking that maybe I've read everything wrong, and that Harm isn't interested in me at all. 

_"You should be flattered, Sarah."_

Who the hell is he kidding? Whipple suddenly nudges me, throwing me out of my other world and back into the court room. I look around, and everyone is getting up to head out. Court has been recessed, and I didn't hear the end of Wilkins' testimony. Dammit. I've got to pull myself out of my personal problems. I stand, get my papers together, place them into my briefcase and walk, almost robotically, from the courtroom. 

****

"How do you think our case is going?" Lieutenant Edwards asks me nervously Friday morning.

"We've established that there's no solid proof of you proposing, and that's a good foundation. We'll have to see where it goes from there. The prosecution is going to put Petty Officer Cloak on the stand," I tell him. 

"Closing arguments are this afternoon," Rivera adds. 

"Which you'll be doing," I say. Rivera gives me a surprised look. 

"Me? You're not serious."

"Yes, I am," I say. "This is for experience, so get your closing together."

"What if I mess this up? Lieutenant Edwards deserves the best defense!" Rivera protests. 

"I have complete trust in you," I reply. I really do trust Rivera. He's not the kind of man who would use this opportunity to his own advantage, unlike Whipple. I look up from my papers and, speak of the devil, Whipple stands at the edge of my office. 

"Excuse me, Commander," she starts sweetly. "Can I have a word with you?"

What do you want? "Of course," I say, standing up. We leave my office and stand in front of my closed door. She smiles at me, and I raise an eyebrow. "Is there something you wanted?"

"I was wondering, Commander, if you'd like to join me in a celebratory dinner this evening?" Whipple asks. 

"Celebratory? For who?"

"For whoever wins," she replies, smiling again. Yikes, she's ten years younger than me, and she's inviting me to dinner. Of course, I could be reading signals wrong here, but it's kind of hard to miss the look in her eyes. Whipple seems to read my thoughts. "Don't worry, the Colonel and Louis will be invited, too."

She tells me the time and place, then places her hand on my arm and smiles at me. Where's my bug spray?

**Yikes, sorry that was so short. I've had terrible writer's block for JAG, so I kind of put this up here. And it's not all that good. But the next chapter will be longer and will be better, don't worry. **


End file.
